A Lord's Arrow
by Legendary Armor
Summary: [FE6] [Roy x Wolt] Drabble. The noble status has changed what's truly dear to him... that arrow flies further, so distant in ways he cannot bear. The flamehaired youth vows to bring it back again...


**A Lord's Arrow**

by the Legendary Armor

A/N: Oh snap, about time. Roy and Wolt of FE6, for my friend psychoswordlady. Enjoy.

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"Camp is set, Master Roy."

"Guards at the perimeters, Master Roy."

"Supplies being dealt with…"

He knew all of this was important; they were setting up camp as they traveled closer to enemy territory, and he, as the leader of the army, needed to know everything that was going on. But it was always the same words, over and over, causing him not boredom… but frustration.

Of course, that could be from an entirely different problem.

"Lance, do you know where Wolt is?"

The emerald-eyed cavalier looked up from lists he was going over with Marcus and Merlinus and smiled. "Yes, I last saw him at that creek in the forest, washing clothes. He finished his own around the same time everyone else did, but then insisted that he clean yours as well."

A flash of anger passed over the young lord's heart. No, it wasn't the generosity of Wolt taking the duty of washing his clothes that made him angry. It was the stubbornness of the damned sniper to act like he was a servant.

Well, technically he _was_. But Roy had already been over that with him, and had hoped their previous conversation had struck his wishes into Wolt's head. However, it seemed as if the blonde still was putting duty ahead of feelings. Roy understood that duty was important, that feelings couldn't be top priority. But Wolt… he'd grown up with Wolt. He was important to the lord, and had never wanted to have to treat him like a servant. He certainly wasn't going to anyway, but that damned stubbornness of his…

"Oh, hello, Master Roy!" the sniper-in-question waved as he turned his attention away from the creek and Roy's clothes for a moment. But as he drew closer, the smile on that face faded, replaced by concern and worry. "Is something wrong, Master Roy?"

Firmly, Roy pulled the basket of clothes away from Wolt's side, and put the underwear (Roy's!) that he'd been washing on a rock. "Yes. And I thought it would have changed by now."

Caught by the intensity of that cerulean gaze, he suddenly seemed flustered; more so as Roy took his now-empty hands into his, drawing close. "W-what is it, Master—"

"Stop it." Was that anger in those noble eyes? "I've told you, I don't want you to act like a servant to me. We're… we're more than childhood friends, or companions. Aren't we? There is no role for a servant in that!"

The son of Rebecca frowned, missing the possible meaning behind the last few sentences Roy spoke. "I'd get in trouble with _others_ if I didn't act like one. It's not you. It's the rest of the nobility. Even if you don't want me to be a servant, I still want to remain by your side… since it seems that, with you being a lord, it's the only way I can."

All the feeling in those words gave the swordsman a little shock, a tingling he felt often around the sniper. He wasn't so dense as to not know _why_ he was feeling that, and… he vowed long ago that he wasn't going to let the trappings of social statuses take it away.

"Fine," he replied with a sigh. "But… now we're alone. You don't have to be a servant when we're alone. Now, at this moment… and in the future, many others… we can be ourselves."

That smile, that light in striking green eyes, was the epitome of relief. "So we can go on as we always were… Roy."

The lord's response was a smile, and he pulled Wolt closer to him, until the sniper fell into his lap, looking up at him with a slight flush. "Roy, what—"

Letting go of his hands, Roy cupped Wolt's face in the most gentle of touches, and kissed him. It wasn't the stuff of fairytales—none of that 'chaste, soft, tender' nonsense—no, it was fierce, full of emotions held in check for far too long. But, to the sniper's credit, he didn't sit there like a lump of dung, too struck by surprise to do anything. He returned the contact as best he could, looping his arms about the young lord's waist.

From a distance, behind a ring of thick shrubbery, Alan smiled, his red armor gleaming in the sun as he snickered. "Ah, you see, Lance? I told you. Master Roy is finally happy."

"That doesn't mean it's our business," the other paladin replied, somewhat exasperated. "We should respect their privacy—"

The brunette kissed the green-haired man lovingly, and in a teasing manner said, "You don't have to worry, I've already forgotten about them."

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(end)


End file.
